


Garden in the Shell

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:33:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He feels like this is some kind of fairy tale and he's in the evil ogre's lair—only Imayoshi isn't an ogre; he's more of a sly fox and Aomine has somehow fallen into his trap. He has to say something, anything, before he falls further.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Garden in the Shell

It's kind of tedious, having to change which class he skips every day so that he doesn't get a shitton of cuts and fail everything (he's got to pass in order to stay on the basketball team, unfortunately) but that's the way it has to be. He's got to light it up at some point during the day, and lunch time is his nap time, the one time they can't kick him out of the cafeteria. Aomine Daiki inhales, the pungent smell of tobacco filling the bathroom stall. He's careful to exhale out the window, smoke and condensed breath and ashes blowing out into the cold air. Unfortunately, the wind decides to pick up and blow back inward, causing him to sneeze and his grip on the cigarette to loosen. He almost drops it and curses loudly. Luckily, no one's in here at least. Just then, as if in response to his thoughts, the door creaks open, sending Aomine into a panic. He glances around, wide-eyed. The smell is obvious, and it's clinging to him right now. He tries to silently rifle through his bag and find the aftershave he always uses-but it is nowhere to be found. Well, to be fair, it's not like he would have been able to spray it noiselessly. Then he hears the sound of running water. Oh, whoever it is is just here to wash his hands. Cool. Great. He hears footsteps go toward the exit and then the door squeaks open and shut again.

He sighs in relief. The cigarette is pretty much done by now; there's just the butt left. He drops it into the toilet, and the flame hisses out. Aomine flushes, then liberally sprays the aftershave before stepping through the mist. He smells kind of disgusting now (like a department store), and it's a total giveaway that he's just been smoking, but no one can prove anything and that's the important part.

He bangs the door of the stall behind him and goes to wash his hands, looks in the mirror to check out his reflection-and there, by the sink on the end, is the young art teacher, Imayoshi. Fuck, fuck, and fuck. Aomine's eyes widen and he stiffens, letting the cool water run over his palms and down the drain, not bothering to rub his hands together.

"Good day, Aomine-kun," Imayoshi says with a horribly evil smile on his face. He takes one last look at his face in the mirror, pushes up his glasses, and turns.

"G-good day, sensei," Aomine replies, trying to stop his heart from beating out of his chest from the tension.

Imayoshi's smile grows larger and more sinister (is that even possible?), and he turns and walks out.

* * *

A week passes, two weeks. Aomine sees Imayoshi in the hall sometimes, the teacher seemingly going out of his way to give him that chilling grin, but other than that nothing happens. The grin says, "I'm watching you," but Aomine has no idea what the hell Imayoshi is doing with his observations. After all, no other teachers or counselors come to talk with him; basketball practices go normally (when he attends them, which is a bit more than usual—the Winter Cup is approaching, after all, his last one). He makes sure to go onto the roof to smoke; it's easier to explain the smell and there are always cigarette butts up there. Plus, the only person who checks for him up there is Satsuki, and he can't hide his habits from her (he can't hide anything from her).

But he's been paranoid and nervous and he's losing sleep (he's spent entire school days awake, for fuck's sake!) and besides, he's not afraid of confrontation is he? He's been known to butt heads with friends and teammates and authority figures before. It's no problem when it's Coach Harasawa or even his parents he's defying, but now…Imayoshi definitely makes him uneasy. But this feeling of tension, of knowing that any second he could be thrown to the wolves, that he could get a suspension and miss his last Winter Cup—this makes him even more uneasy, even when Imayoshi isn't there smirking at him.

The art room is in the back of the school; in two and a half years Aomine has never gone near it. He's never had to take an art class and has never been well-acquainted with anyone who is involved with art clubs or any of that. It takes him a while to find it, but he doesn't want to ask for anyone's help. It's Friday afternoon and he's skipping practice as usual, but what the hell. It's better to not get a nap in now than to not get any naps in at all during the day next week. The door is open, and the faint whiff of turpentine penetrates the air around the entrance. Inside, half-finished sculptures lie on greasy tables with streaks of paint all over them. The walls are stacked with floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with all kinds of paint, string, paper, and glue. There are pieces of equipment on some of the tables, and Aomine has no idea what they do, and he kind of doesn't want to know. Imayoshi glances up from his desk, where he's sitting and reading a newspaper.

"Ah! Aomine-kun." There's that smile again. "What took you so long?"

"I…uh…" he scratches his head. He's gotten all worked up about coming here and now that he's arrived he has no idea what he's going to say or do.

Imayoshi waves his hand. "Please, have a seat, anywhere you'd like."

It's not an invitation; it's an order. Aomine complies, sitting on a stool at the table nearest to the door. He feels like this is some kind of fairy tale and he's in the evil ogre's lair—only Imayoshi isn't an ogre; he's more of a sly fox and Aomine has somehow fallen into his trap. He has to say something, anything, before he falls further.

"Are you going to tell anyone?"

"Tell anyone what?"

Damn, Aomine really wants to punch this guy in the face. But that would probably not be a good decision, he realizes, although his forehead twitches and his arm moves about a quarter of the way back (Aomine may be across the room from Imayoshi, but he can get there fast and hit him fast).

Imayoshi raises an eyebrow. "A wise choice, I think." He's still turning the pages of his book (what is it? For some reason Aomine has a desire to know.) and is barely looking up (although it's hard to tell when his eyes are always squinting like that).

Aomine sighs and puts his head in his hands. "Is there anything I can do? So that you won't tell?"

"Not really," Imayoshi says. "Although, come to think of it, I'd like to get all the clay out of the way, so if you'd do that perhaps I'll look the other way."

Why the hell did he ask in the first place? Well, he won't get kicked off of the team, at least for now. That's what's important.

* * *

Aomine comes back on Tuesday, skipping practice again. This time, Imayoshi doesn't seem to want anything and even seems a bit surprised to see Aomine (if a guy like that can seem surprised). Aomine stays anyway. It's raining, but perhaps it will clear up later, although the cold, grey air outside does not look promising from the small art room window.

So they talk. Imayoshi is a very good conversationalist, very witty, although Aomine can't quite tell if he's being insulted or not sometimes. He doesn't seem to be totally dismayed with Aomine's lack of interest in subjects other than basketball and himself.

"So how come you know so much about basketball?" Aomine finally blurts out. He never would have taken a serious-looking art teacher guy as the type who wanted anything to do with sport.

Imayoshi laughs (for once, not completely at Aomine). "I won the Winter Cup, believe it or not."

"Really?" It's true that Aomine can't really tell much about Imayoshi's body type from the suit he's wearing, he's not that tall and doesn't seem to be especially agile or strong.

"Do you doubt me, Aomine-kun?" His voice is deadly serious.

Aomine pales.

* * *

That night, his curiosity gets the better of him and he types "Imayoshi Winter Cup basketball" into the search engine. The top link is from the Winter Cup website, in the "past winners" section. Five years ago, Touou Academy had won (of course, Aomine knows this already; the coaches mention it practically every fucking day, or at least they do at all the practices he attends) led by their captain, a point guard named Imayoshi Shouichi.

Damn. Is there a photo? There is; there's Coach Harasawa on the side looking as pleased as ever and there's Imayoshi in the centre. He looks exactly the same, same expression and hairstyle and glasses (no doubt his menacing presence had something to do with that championship) and…damn. He looks really good in that uniform. Aomine wonders if his body is still that well-defined.

* * *

Somehow, Aomine can't mention Imayoshi's basketball past in a conversation, even when they're talking about basketball. Imayoshi seems a bit reluctant to bring it up, too, and Aomine knows he's not nearly at Satsuki's level of analysis and research, so he can't form an educated guess why. Moreover, it's probably not his business (Satsuki has told him on more than one occasion that he has the tact level of Godzilla using two bulldozers as skates tearing through Tokyo, and although he rolls his eyes at her sometimes he really does try and be more tactful, especially around this guy—even if he isn't going to snitch on Aomine smoking in the bathroom (come to think of it, who would believe him?) he probably knows a bunch of other unsavory things about Aomine). Still, he comes to the classroom after school nearly every day (for some reason, there are never any other students there) and doesn't even really complain about the lost few hours of sleep. If Aomine didn't know any better (and who knows, maybe he actually doesn't) he'd say Imayoshi might actually be growing fond of him. Indeed, his smile is gentler and Aomine senses less double-meaning in his words.

The Winter Cup actually sneaks up on him this time, although Satsuki reminds him several times in class that it's starting tomorrow. She can never worry too much about him, although it's probably for the best. The games run together, most of them easy wins, Touou crushing the opposition and Aomine not even having to play—although he does show up at the beginning of most of the games. They beat Shutoku in the semifinal, which is a much more competitive game than all the others so far until Aomine pulls it out of reach with a couple of quick steal-and-scores to open a gap that even Midorima's three-pointers can't catch up to.

The final is against Kaijou, and it's a train wreck from the beginning. Kise's got his A game today, and cheerfully wipes the floor with Touou, using Aomine's and Sakurai's moves against them as well as a ridiculous collection of other moves, some of which are so bizarre and obscure that even Satsuki is unsure what exactly they are. The scoreboard somehow ends up giving the illusion that Touou was at some point putting up a real fight. Even Aomine in the zone can't stop Kise's perfect copy, which is funny because it used to be the other way around—even when he tried his hardest, Kise couldn't copy Aomine perfectly.

Nevertheless, someone must lose. This time, it's their turn.

* * *

Aomine has retired from the team officially. It's weird, not having a practice to go to, even if he never goes anyway—there's one less thing Satsuki can yell at him for not doing, one less thing on his plate. But there are no more games, either.

"I don't want to play professionally, you know?" he says, twirling a basketball he stole from the gym after PE class on his finger. "I mean, it's a job, and jobs aren't supposed to be fun. Like, you have to come in at certain times and do what people tell you."

Imayoshi seems amused. "You didn't seem to have any trouble skipping practice these past few weeks."

"Well…yeah…but that's different." He drops the basketball in his lap.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Aomine staring off into space and Imayoshi reading his book.

"Hey," Aomine says at last, eyes coming back into focus. "Want to play one-on-one?"

Imayoshi slowly raises his head. "Right now?"

Aomine nods. "It's sunny out."

"I'm not exactly properly dressed," Imayoshi replies, going back to his book.

"Neither am I," Aomine says, waving his hand. "Now come on, I want to play."

Imayoshi closes his book. "You're strident today."

That seems to be Imayoshi-speak for agreement, so Aomine stands up and grins. "Remember, though, the only one who can win against me is me."

* * *

Imayoshi's speed startles Aomine. He doesn't seem to otherwise move with particular agility, but somehow he can get around Aomine a few times before Aomine gets used to it. He thinks quicker than he moves, although that in and of itself is not surprising. He's also got a couple of really good one-on-one moves, both offensively and defensively. Aomine wins, but not by much and not without having to put a lot of pressure on his body. Both of them are soaked in sweat; Aomine can see the outline of Imayoshi's torso through his now-translucent white shirt. Something about it makes something inside of him twitch and he shudders slightly.

"You're not going to get sick, are you?" Imayoshi asks.

Aomine shakes his head. At least, he doesn't think he will.

Imayoshi gestures for him to follow, and Aomine doesn't know where they're going. He guesses it's a convenience store, and he's right. To his surprise, Imayoshi buys him some mineral water and doesn't ask to be paid back. He just hands him the bottle, and Aomine chugs it, feeling the coolness caress the inside of his parched throat. He needs dinner and a cigarette right now, too, but water is his first priority. By the time he's finished guzzling the large bottle, Imayoshi has vanished, leaving him alone with his schoolbag and the basketball.

* * *

It's the next day when Aomine sits on Imayoshi's desk , scooting backwards and making room for himself among the papers and pieces of charcoal and not noticing or caring about the state of his uniform pants. It's the day when he feels comfortable enough to do this and to lean backwards and peer over Imayoshi's shoulder and read his book. It's a novel set in World War II Vienna, and the language is depressingly flowery, enough to choke him in the language's virtual petals and perfume. It's the day when Imayoshi notices this and continues reading until the end of the chapter, and then places the book on top of his desk, leans up and kisses Aomine on the mouth.

It's warm and wet and sensual and the best damn kiss Aomine has ever had. Half-unconsciously, he clenches his fist around the front of Imayoshi's shirt and pulls him closer. They stay like this for a while, continuing the kiss, not wanting to pull back or take a long breath, until finally Aomine leans back too far and almost falls off the desk.

* * *

Of course, they can't really tell anyone about their relationship just yet, but Imayoshi seems unconcerned about that because there are only a few more months of school left. It seems like an eternity to Aomine, stretching out before him—but at the same time keeping it a secret for a while might be kind of nice. After all, Aomine's friends (Satsuki and Kise most notably) are pretty damn nosy (although Satsuki will probably figure this one out on her own, anyway). Imayoshi also says that they shouldn't get "too involved" while they're still teacher and student, which basically means, "Daiki, you can't sleep over more than once a week." Although that one time a week is always pretty nice, Aomine falling asleep spooning Imayoshi with the light still on while Imayoshi reads his flowery historical novels and waking up with his arms still around Imayoshi even as the alarm rings and Imayoshi pressing the snooze button and rolling over, nuzzling Aomine's chest because even he is sometimes affectionate, especially before he's had his morning coffee.

It's a pleasant surprise to find out that Imayoshi smokes the same brand of cigarettes as Aomine does, and when Aomine grabs one and uses the lit cigarette in Imayoshi's mouth to light it, Imayoshi doesn't say anything.

"I thought you didn't want me to smoke?" Aomine says, puzzled.

"You're an adult; make your own choices," Imayoshi replies. "And I hope you're not calling me a hypocrite?"

**Author's Note:**

> xposted to fanfiction.net
> 
> Music: "Garden in the Shell" by Beat Crusaders


End file.
